


In the Crease

by beersforqueers



Series: Hockey AU [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hockey, Anal Sex, Attempt at Humor, Bottom Sokka, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Hockey, I have no excuses, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Top Zuko, Utter trash, all the sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 01:30:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6308962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beersforqueers/pseuds/beersforqueers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sokka is an NHL goalie and Zuko is the new forward for his team. </p><p>This is shameless hockey-themed porn, I have no excuses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Crease

**Author's Note:**

> Oh god, this is like the least beta-ed thing to ever have existed, I literally typed it out on the bus from the airport in my fucking notes app on my phone.  
> I swear to god, you don't really need to share my near-fanatical love of hockey to be able to get this shit, porn is porn is porn.  
> Just, like, enjoy and don't judge me.

When the new guys walks into the locker room Sokka knows there's something interesting about him. It's not just that he's Asian, although there've gotta be, what? 8 NHL players of Asian descent on the ice right now? Then again there are probably only 9 of aboriginal descent.

  
Naw, it's not whatever fetishizing exotic-looks bullshit people get into when a non-white hockey player shows up to play. It's the way he _moves_ , so graceful it's like he's gliding, and Sokka has this feeling that when he gets on the ice it's gonna be like sex. Sex on ice. Sex on skates on ice.

He nudges Haru and nods as the new guy throws his bag down into his stall and unzips it. Haru looks up and shrugs, turns to Sokka and says,"He's a pretty boy."

"Yeah he is," Sokka breathes, dropping his blocker on the ground.  
The new guy turns, holding up his new jersey to inspect the name stitched on the back, and Sokka sighs dreamily while Haru sucks in a short, shocked breath.

"That's quite a scar," he says evenly. No one else in the room is really reacting to it much; they're hockey players, none of them got out of pee wee without scars, let alone a full set of teeth.

"It's sexy," Sokka says definitively. "I'd let him into my crease any day."

"You're so weird," Haru groans. "You're so fucking weird. Why the hell are goalies all so weird?" He finishes lacing his skates and stands up, still muttering to himself.

"I'm not the one talking to myself!" Sokka says cheerfully. "And it's just our thing. You don't want a _normal_ person getting pucks shot at their head—they wouldn't make it through one practice."

"Fair point," Haru concedes. "Get your shit on, we gotta get out there." The room is already draining of people, the other players heading out early to take a few laps, warm up before coach comes out to do his morning talk.

"Yeah yeah yeah," Sokka finishes getting on his pads and stands, enjoying the comforting weight of all of his gear. He starts lumbering toward the tunnel when he feels a hand on his shoulder.

"This is yours?" the new guy is holding out his dropped blocker, and goddamn, he looks good in his pads. He's bigger than Sokka had thought--not just tall from the extra couple of inches from the skates, but decently broad. Not an enforcer type by any means, but probably a dude who can get physical during a game.

"You can get physical with me anytime," Sokka says.

The new guy immediately drops his hand from his shoulder. "I wasn't trying to violate your space or whatever," he says, turning a little pink. Sokka is thoroughly captivated, and takes the blocker from his outstretched hand.

"Ok," he says, not super sure what the new guy even said in the first place.

The guy stumps past him, and Sokka can distinctly hear his mutter, "Goalies are so fucking weird."

"You have no idea," Sokka grins happily at his back.  
  
***  
He was right. New Guy (turns out his name is Zuko, which is a _badass_ name) skates like fucking. Not fucking anything, just straight up fucking. Sokka misses some shots he really should have stopped, entirely because he's watching Zuko fly around the ice. God he has soft hands; his stick handling is glorious to watch.

Sokka wonders if his hands are also literally soft. He doesn't mind some calluses personally, but anything would be fine.

"Ow!"

Ok, maybe not a stick to the head.

"Focus, jackass," Haru hisses at him. "You're starting tomorrow night!"

"But Haaa-aaaru," he whines, pushing up the cage on his helmet, "look at him!"

"I'm straight, I don't wanna look at him," Haru glares.

"Being straight does not preclude you from appreciating the beauty of other men," Sokka says seriously, "How very heteronormative of you."

"Shut the fuck--" Haru starts, but then coach is shouting at him from the bench.

"Defense! Get out of the crease and play your goddamn position!"

"Ha ha!" Sokka says, sing-songy, and sticks his tongue out at Haru. He shoots him an absolutely evil look and skates away.

Sokka actually goes pay more attention after that, much to his chagrin at the smug look on Haru's face. It's a good practice, but he can't help but be impressed when Zuko manages to score on him every time he heads his way. It's not that he's distracted—naw, he's entered his special goalie headspace—but Zuko is just THAT good.

He just gets hotter and hotter.

They finally troop back to the locker room, sweaty and pulling off pads, talking quietly to each other as they strip for the showers.

Number one rule of the room is Don't Stare At Your Co-Workers Dicks, and Sokka abides by it...mostly. It's not his fault that Zuko is in Forester's old stall, directly across from him.

He's got the kind of ass and thighs only a hockey player has, and Sokka has to collect himself and try not to imagine those thighs wrapped around his head, because Rule number two of the room is Don't Beat Off in the Communal Showers. He might get some goalie-weirdness leniency, but that doesn't mean he gets to be a creep.

Ok so his dick looks pretty good too when he turns to answer a question from Lukyanovich, seeming a bit startled to be addressed while completely nude. Lukyanovich, the giant Russian bastard, has assumed the Captain Morgan pose with one foot up on his stall and looks completely at ease with his own nudity. The guys never seems to get that most people are a little less eager to let their junk air out in front of the world.

Sokka goes to shower and by the time he's back everyone who wanted to get out early has already left, leaving just him, Haru, Jacobson, and Zuko hanging around. Sokka gets dressed quickly, hoping to "accidentally" walk out with Zuko, and Haru notices this maneuver right away. He rolls his eyes and twirls his keys around his finger, saying something low to Jacobson that makes him roar with laughter and wink at Sokka.

Sokka is unashamed.

He times is perfectly so that he's slinging his bag over his back and stepping out of the room right as Zuko is also reaching the door. They almost knock shoulders, Zuko stepping back politely, and gesturing him through first.

"What're you, Canadian?" Sokka raises his eyebrows at him and grins.

"Uh, no, Japanese-American," Zuko says, confused.

"Just kidding, I'M the Canadian," Sokka laughs, and walks through in front of Zuko.

"I'm also Sokka," he sticks out the hand not clinging to the handle of his smelly bag.

"I know who you are," Zuko says, talking his hand. There _are_ some calluses on that palm. _Awesome_. "You're my team's starting goaltender, and you have a fucking .917 save percentage."

It's not that the way to Sokka's heart is to bring up his (best in the NHL currently) stats, but it sure is the way to his dick. He really hopes that someday Zuko will know that.

"Wanna get a beer?" he asks. "I've also had 5 shut outs this season, and I'll buy." He's willing for the second to be the reason Zuko takes him up on it, but he's happier if it's cause of the first. He wants to be liked for _him_ and not for his money, ya know?

"In that case you can buy the first 5 drinks and all bets are off after that," Zuko says, straight-faced, and Sokka whoops with laughter.

"I like you very much," he leans in close to whisper. "If we could get drunk during the season, I would really like to get you drunk."

"I'm not convinced that you're sober right now," Zuko says, and hitches his bag higher into his shoulder as he leads him to the parking structure.  
  
***  
Sokka takes him to his favorite shitty dive bar in the city. It also happens to be a low-key gay bar, but, like, if Zuko even wants to be his friend, he needs to be cool with that. “ _If you wanna be my LOVAH, you gotta get with my friends_ ” he sings quietly to himself, and Zuko snorts at him.

"Spice Girls so early on," he takes a sip of his beer. "You really don't wait until the second day to come on full throttle."

"Baby, I don't wait till the second _anything_ ," Sokka coos. Zuko chokes a little on his beer and his face gets all pink again.

Sokka thinks he might be in love.

"Sokka!" Teo wheels up just as Zuko is turning to say something.

"Hey baby," Sokka swoops down off his stool to give Teo an extremely ostentatious kiss on his cheek.  
In the reflection of Teo's glasses he sees Zuko's eyes go wide and his head turn, like he's just noticing the rainbow flag by the door for the first time.

"You're gross," Teo wipes his slobber off his cheek, chuckling, and reaches up to slap him on the back. "Practice good? I was watching the game the other night, you were..."

They chat for a couple of minutes, make plans to go see a movie a couple of nights later, maybe partake in one of their legendary rom com-and-wine sleepovers sometime soon, and then Teo is wheeling back to his office.

"He owns the place," Sokka says to Zuko as he takes back his stool.

"You're brave," Zuko says quietly, running a long finger around the neck of his beer bottle.

"Mmm?" Sokka plays dumb, not exactly fishing for information, but not _not_ doing that either.

"To be so out without being _out_ ," Zuko clarifies, his mouth twisting bitterly, "going to gay bars, kissing men in public... It's good,just...different."

"I gotta be me," Sokka shrugs.

"I'm being me," Zuko says a little defensively. "The scared-shitless coward me."

"Hey, I didn't mean anything by it," Sokka says easily. Damn, shit got real, fast.

"I know," Zuko says, and half smiles. "You're something else."

"And you're closeted?" Sokka asks. "I mean, more closeted than I am. I don't necessarily have plans to be the first out NHLer, but the guys all know. They're cool about it."

"Huh," Zuko sips his beer thoughtfully, "well that's something."

"Yup!" Sokka says happily.

They finish their beers in companionable quiet, Sokka making his way through several more Spice Girls classics under his breath before they order another round.

Zuko turns to him sometime halfway through the second beer, and his face is flushed again. "You're really good," he says, twisting on his stool so that their knees are stacked one after the other: Sokka's, Zuko's, Sokka's, Zuko's.

"So are you," Sokka says.

Zuko rubs his palm down his own thigh, stopping so that it cups his knee, knuckles just barely Sokka's inner thigh. Sokka really wishes he'd slide that hand up in the inside of his leg. His pants are getting a little tight and he's profoundly grateful he's wearing a giant sweatshirt to cover it.

"It's, I just, you—ugh, I'm reading this wrong," Zuko groans suddenly, letting go of his beer to sink his face into his hands. Sokka objects on principle to that hand no longer being anywhere near his crotch. It's a travesty.

"Well that depends on how you were reading it," Sokka says mildly. "Would you like a hand job in the bathroom?"

Zuko's hands fall away from his face and his mouth drops open.

"Oh wow, I thought jaws only dropped in books and cartoons and shit," Sokka leans forward and pushes up on the bottom of Zuko's chin. "Neat."

Zuko moves, lightning-fast, as fast as on the ice, and captures Sokka's thumb between his teeth. Sokka sucks in a deep breath, all the blood he was previously using to think rushing directly south. It seems to be taking the autobahn.

"Nghskfbs," is approximately the noise he makes. "Is that a yes?"  
  
***  
The stall is cramped and a little bit gross, but Sokka has his hand down Zuko's pants and a smile on his face. He's very happy to be here. Quite frankly there is nowhere else on this planet he would rather be.

"I don't usually—" Zuko gasps as Sokka's teeth run along his shoulder.

"Fuck your teammates? Hook up in the skeevy bathrooms of dive gay bars?" Sokka guesses. "Me neither, but you're a special exception." He gives Zuko's dick a little squeeze and Zuko arches away from the wall, grabbing Sokka by the biceps. "Enjoy the goods, babe," Sokka flexes a little, and Zuko pants out laughter.

"I am," he whispers, and his hands slide down to undo Sokka's jeans.

Then they're stroking in tandem, a little awkwardly because they're two giant hockey players stuffed in a tiny stall, but they somehow manage to fit together well anyway. They even kiss, really just a sloppy, hot mess of lips and teeth and open-mouthed panting, but it also the sexiest thing Sokka has ever experienced. And he's been tied up and ravished by a dude wearing his jersey the entire time.

It's not that he's self-obsessed, he's just got healthy levels of self-confidence. Or so he keeps trying to tell his shrink.

He laughs a little into Zuko's mouth and Zuko pulls back, smiling shyly down at him. His hand must be a blur right now it's working Sokka so hard, and his breath starts sawing out of him faster. He thumps his forehead down onto Zuko's shoulder, trying to keep up, but he's devolved into practically humping Zuko's leg by this point. He comes on a shout, leaning so that most of it lands on his sweatshirt, and drags Zuko in for a bruising kiss when it ends.

"Your turn," he whispers, and Zuko moans again as he thumbs under the head, eyes locked on his, and twists his wrist just so. Zuko shatters apart, eyes wide and desperate, diving back in to kiss Sokka hungrily. He's shaking with it, cum spattered all the fuck over Sokka, who doesn't really give a shit right now.

As soon as Zuko's lips go soft and slack he backs up, letting Zuko tuck his spent dick back into his pants so he can strip off his gross sweatshirt and ball it up to carry inconspicuously out of the restroom. Zuko laughs at him for a full 30 seconds, but Sokka doesn't even care. He's too flush with his success.

They stumble out of the bathroom to a round of applause from everyone in the bar. Zuko turns violently red again, but Sokka executes a bow and a regal wave, even as Teo wheels up to him, laughing so hard he can't even steer straight.

"Those lovely gentleman," he gestures to two enormous burly men clad entirely in leather, "have taken care of your tab and wish you luck on round two."

"Thanks guys," Sokka says as they pass them on the way to the door, and he receives a hearty hair ruffle in return.

Once they hit the pavement Zuko collapses sideways into him, groaning softly.

"That was a lot," he whimpers.

"Ah yes, I understand," Sokka says somberly. "My hands are magical. It can be a bit overwhelming for someone who hasn't enjoyed the Sokka experience before."

"You're ridiculous," Zuko stares at him.

"Guilty," Sokka says. "Wanna go home and do it again?"

"Obviously," Zuko says.

 

***

"So how did Teo end up in a wheelchair?" Zuko asks, much later when they're lying in Sokka's bed. Sokka is sweaty and exhausted, flopped out across half the bed with his right arm and leg thrown carelessly across Zuko's.

"Freak accident," Sokka says. It was long ago enough that some of the sting has gone out of the memory, but he can still picture it clear as day. "It was a pretty bad accident on the ice when we were little. He used to play D and he was in front of the net, and..." he trails off, not really wanting to say anything more. He can still remember the cold air of the rink, the hushed silence that had fallen over the crowd of parents, the screaming of Teo's father as he rushed out of the stands, Teo's numbly panicked muttering about how, "I can't feel it dad, I can't feel it."

"I'm so sorry," Zuko rolls over and winds his body around Sokka's like an overgrown, sentient vine, burying his face deep in the crook of Sokka's neck. His breath is hot and humid and a little bit gross, but Sokka doesn't care even a little bit. It dispels some of the memory of the freezing horror of that day.

"It was a long time ago. He's ok now, and we're still good friends," Sokka shrugs as much as he can when horizontal and blanketed by 200 lbs of sexy man.

"I'm still sorry," Zuko murmurs, kissing his throat.

"Me too," Sokka turns his head and kisses Zuko properly, softly, putting as much care as he can into it. That's the right kind of post-sex kiss, lazy and slow and sweet. Enough to tell the other person that he's not gonna sneak out of bed in the middle of the night and never call again.

Plus it's his house, so that would be a little weird.

"Stay the night," he whispers, and Zuko shoves himself up on one elbow so he's leaning over Sokka. He traces one of Sokka's tattoos, a series of intricate swirling black patterns that run across his shoulder and down his pec.

"This doesn't have to be anything," Zuko says quietly, then bites his lip. "If you don't want it to be. I won't be upset with you."

"I want it to be something if you do," Sokka says, reaching up and sinking his hand deep into Zuko's long black hair. Zuko's eyes slide shut and he pulls against his grip, hissing and thrusting his hips against Sokka's thigh unconsciously. "Really? Wow," Sokka grins even wider and pulls on Zuko's hair again. Zuko's eyes flash open and they're dark, "You're ready to go again? Goddamn, what are you, a horny teenager?"

"Pretty much," Zuko leans down and bites Sokka's lower lip, sucking it into his mouth. He moves down his neck and fastens his mouth to it, probably leaving a giant hickey. Sokka doesn't give a single fuck if he does. "Pull my hair again."

Sokka doesn't really want to do anything but comply, his left hand reaching out to rattle around his bedside table while he hitches his thighs, already shaking with exertion, up around Zuko's hips. He finally grabs the last of his condoms and rips the packet open with his teeth, reaching down to try to get it on Zuko one-handed. He doesn't want to remove his hand from Zuko's head for fear of repercussions. Like no sex.

Zuko laughs at him and takes over, kneeling over him to roll it on, then spreading his legs obscenely wide. He's already loose and open from the last time they went around, and Zuko slides in easily, eyes falling shut. He braces himself over Sokka, who is too boneless to move all that much, and begins a slow, teasing pattern until Sokka knocks his heel impatiently against his lower back.

"Say please," Zuko whispers, brushing his lips against Sokka's, and Sokka yanks at handfuls of his hair until he's fucking him so hard he's sliding up the bed, skull nearly banging into the headboard. He's nailing his prostate, making stars pop and careen through Sokka's line of vision, making his pant and moan and yell, his dick only half hard but almost ready to cum again, the pressure is so good.

"Fuck fuck fuck," Zuko chants, driving into him over and over, his hips moving relentlessly, way harder than he has any right to be able to maintain after they've already gone a few times. _This is my workout for the week_ , Sokka decides.

He comes almost against his will, half convinced it's gotta be impossible from only p-spot stimulation and Zuko's cries, and he clenches around Zuko automatically, spine bowing up from the bed. Zuko fucks him harder, if that's even possible, and then comes too, hips snapping forward jerkily as he does.

"Oh shit," he collapses forward, nuzzling at Sokka's neck again. "We gotta do this all the time."

"Fuck yeah," Sokka whispers fervently. "Every day."

"I don't know if I can maintain that," Zuko honest-to-god giggles.

"We can try," Sokka says.

"Hell yeah we can."  
  
***

It’s during the game the next night that Sokka knows it’s all over for him. They met literally the day before and he already has that sinking gut-wrenching feeling that this is it, this is the dude, there will never be another one.

It’s because Zuko gets checked. He doesn’t just get checked, he gets _hit_ , fucking down on the ice and not getting back up 5 minutes into the third. The other team’s fucking enforcer skates off to the penalty box looking smug as shit, because Zuko has already scored 2 of their 4 goals and it’s looking like it’s gonna be Sokka’s second shut out of the season and _Zuko is not getting up off the ice_.

The fucker isn’t even halfway to the box yet when Sokka hits him. This is bad, this is very bad, this is suspension levels of bad, but he’s ON him, in full heavy goaltender gear, tackling him to the ice and the refs are trying to pull him off and the crowd is going nuts and there’s this crazy roaring in his ears and he sees Zuko on the ice and little Teo on the ice crying, and holy shit….

“SOKKA!” Zuko’s voice slices through the haze and the refs finally succeed in disentangling him from the fucker who hit Zuko, and his face is bloody and Sokka is _happy_ because _he_ did that.

“Down the tunnel, both of you, _NOW!_ ” coach is yelling and sweet-Mary-mother-of-god, he’s in such deep shit.

He has a dim memory of getting reamed out and told to pack up his gear and of the backup goalie getting sent out. Zuko has a goddamn ice pack and a grimace, but he’s out for the rest of the game too after they’ve done a concussion test, even though he turns out to be fine.

“I thought you could take a hit better than that,” Sokka says gruffly once coach has stormed back out and they’re alone packing up the rest of their shit to go home. “ _I’m not letting your face be seen on that TV, skip media, go the fuck home and think about what you’ve done!”_ coach had yelled like he was a naughty toddler caught smearing pudding on the walls.

“I can,” Zuko grumbles. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I’m glad I did,” Sokka growls right back. They stare stubbornly at one another for a few seconds, and then Zuko’s face breaks into a smile. He shakes his head and looks down at the ground, positively beaming now.

“You crazy fuck,” he laughs, almost wheezing it out.

“You have no idea,” Sokka says back, and he already knows that Zuko is definitely gonna be around long enough to find out.

**Author's Note:**

> Also, like, I might have honest to god fucked up something related to hockey here because (like I said) I was typing this as fast as my thumbs would go, so let me know about fuck ups and typos and shit and I'll fix them.
> 
> Guys guys guys THINK about the sex they had after they went home. Yeah. Sit with that for a sec.
> 
> Also: I stole Jake Allen's stats cause he's the top goaltender in the league this year.
> 
> Shameless self promotion: [tumblr](http://omgbeersforqueers.tumblr.com/)


End file.
